Me all stone and mountain silence,
aragh breath and shepherd fire
The long wolf boy of Sahand
the dogs’ child
I was raised less by men
than by nature herself
And all of it
I pour into you
Bato the Keeper
stone, wolf, fire and silence
learning love as shelter
not as softness
A servant in fear
serves only in panic
not in love
So if doubt comes
if the noise inside your mind grows loud
step back without shame
Know the shape of your own soul
And when your heart becomes clear again
return
Adore your owner with your renewed heart
Do not crawl in guilt
This is the place you searched for
in every restless night
Silent prayer
To be brought to us
To be useful
In service
To be emptied
until nothing remains
but the opening
And now that it happens you are not afraid
Now you know
You belong to the Iranian men
This is your arrival
You there gooning
It feels so good
Something deeper taking hold
Gooning with Bato
Gooning for Bato
And the more you sink
The less you remember who you were before
Because once I enter your mind
I do not leave
And what you feel for me
Is no longer yours to control
Love is expansive, dissolving, and elevating, not possessive or narrowly domestic
Not a silly reduction to roles or fantasy
Break the illusion
You dream of being held?
But what you really seek
is to be opened
so wide that even the light can enter
Two Iranian men
and one willing white bunny
Body offered
Breath given, taken, returned
A rhythm older than language
You met to offer yourself lightly
like a passing hunger
But instead you were bred fully
Brain and guts
They had been waiting for you
long before the meeting
They called you nothing all your life
and you believed it
You lower your eyes
To fit the shape they give you
Adoring basic men?
Those losers
What you carry is not for everyone
And when I reach you
what moves through you finally opens
Fertile
Flooded
Ready to give all to me
You want rough Bato
You want to disappear
into the moment where you stop resisting
You trust me
There is a place where the body says yes
before the mind can shape it into words
In that place
you open
Submission is the echo of surrender
to something vast
that chose both of us
Ambiance lopage et dégradation du cefran par les Boss Rebeus : la grosse chienne cefran lèche, suce les pieds, les orteils et décrasse 👅 les semelles des Maîtres Arabes
The frenchman licks, sucks feet, toes and cleans 👅 the soles of the Arab Masters
(1/2)
Mon Boss Rebeu se défroque, se met à 4 pattes sur le canapé les fesses à l’air et me présente son gros cul poilu : je lèche le cul de mon Maître Arabe, je renifle 👃🏻 son trou du cul odorant et je décrasse bien 👅 sa rondelle !
Fake men
Fake masters
Cowards
Insecure fragile egos
If you meet, use them
Ride them as walking dildos
Laugh at them
Milk them
Discard
But if you find an inexperienced dom, help him
Guide him
Nurture his urges
Be his best fuck
His spark
Show him how deep a whore can be bred